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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730933">the great toupee fic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialsnowflake/pseuds/specialsnowflake'>specialsnowflake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack Treated Seriously, Toupees, as a treat, credit to the royal family discord, did you guys know that toupees have to be glued on top of your head, ever since i discovered that john deacon wore a toupee my life has not been the same, i didn't know that until i wrote this, i wrote this for them, since i didn't feel comfortable writing an age gap, since john is early 40s, the reader's a little older in this, there's like one line that references it, think early 40s, this is actually pretty fluffy, you might get some unironic enjoyment out of it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:08:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialsnowflake/pseuds/specialsnowflake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A toupee sat at the top of his head, which you already knew. His hairline did not magically get better in the year you knew him. He normally didn't care what other people thought, but you never questioned the toupee. His life, his choices.</p><p>Fortunately, John chose a toupee that matched his hair color and texture well enough. You tried not to touch it too much, but your hand slipped.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Deacon &amp; Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the great toupee fic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for those of you who might be confused by this: this is a crack fic i wrote for a discord server. hopefully you get some enjoyment out of this. i had a lot of fun writing it, and some people in the discord thought i should publish it, so here i am!!! publishing it!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the light changed, you and John stepped onto the road. You caught John's hand in yours as you crossed the street to keep your place at his side through the crowd of people. He took your hand gratefully, accompanied with a sheepish smile that brought out the crinkles around his eyes. The temptation to not kiss him right there grew strong, but you were able to compose yourself and settled on squeezing his hand instead. You would kiss him when you got back to the flat.</p><p>The dinner had been romantic and pleasant. He'd made your first Valentine's day together a smashing success, just as you predicted. In the year you'd been dating, John proved to be the best partner you'd had so far. His affections were refreshing; decent partners became a rarity as you got older.</p><p>Much to your relief, you and John entered your warm flat. John kicked off his shoes by the door, causing warmth to bloom in your chest. Perhaps the wine in your blood lowered your inhibitions, but you pulled John in close when he turned to face you. He gave a small chuckle, clearly surprised.</p><p>"Can't wait?" His hands settled on your waist.</p><p>You smiled and kissed him, overcome with admiration. He returned your kiss with enthusiasm before breaking away.</p><p>"Thank you for the dinner, it was lovely."</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>You rested your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. The quiet, intimate moment settled between you, and a large part of you wanted to stay there forever. A few seconds elapsed before John broke out in a big yawn.</p><p>"Tired," you asked, and lifted your head from his shoulder.</p><p>He nodded. "Let's go to bed."</p><p>John had spent plenty of nights at your flat. As with many serious relationships, he began to accumulate things at your place. You wouldn't admit it, but seeing his things in your drawers gave you a rush you hadn't experienced in years. A sense of legitimacy now existed in your relationship, and it grew stronger with every shirt that wound up in your closet, every new bottle of cologne that ended up on your bathroom counter, every pair of shoes that remained by your door. When John could not be physically present at the flat, these items served as a constant reminder of him, the semi-permanent resident.</p><p>He didn't even change out of his fancy clothes as he settled into "his" side of the bed. You learned in the year you'd been dating that John fell asleep quickly, and tonight he drifted off in minutes. Though sometimes you felt creepy for doing so, you couldn't help but watch him sleep. Perhaps the romantic atmosphere he'd created for Valentine's Day made your affection for him increase tenfold. You normally weren't so sentimental, but there were days when being with John made you feel like a teenager. You did, quite plainly, love him to death.</p><p>You reached to stroke his hair as he slept. He admitted quietly one time that he enjoyed you playing with his hair, so now you made a point to do it often. John's fluffy hair felt soft under your fingertips. You had started out at the back of his head, and began to make your way up toward the top. A toupee sat at the top of his head, which you already knew. His hairline did not magically get better in the year you knew him. He normally didn't care what other people thought, but you never questioned the toupee. His life, his choices.</p><p>Fortunately, John chose a toupee that matched his hair color and texture well enough. You tried not to touch it too much, but your hand slipped. The toupee fell out of place. It didn't slide off his head, fortunately, but John would definitely notice upon waking up. Ever so gently, you adjusted the toupee to its normal spot and pressed down, attempting to make the adhesive stick once more. You'd never thought much about how toupees work until this very moment, but weren't they supposed to not slip? A part of you wanted to tell John that he'd purchased a shoddy toupee.</p><p>The adhesive, much to your horror, wouldn't stick. In your haste you kept touching the toupee, and eventually the whole thing came off. John's receding hairline completely exposed, you placed the detached hairpiece on the nightstand beside him.</p><p>You rushed off to the bathroom in search of bobby pins. After a few moments of digging through your drawers, you found them, and attempted to pin the toupee back into place. You must've been too rowdy, because John began to stir, his eyes opening just a crack.</p><p>Nothing more could be done as John fully regained consciousness. He saw the bobby pins in your hands.</p><p>"What are you doing?"</p><p>This whole scene seemed ridiculous, really. You were both middle aged adults, able to talk things out calmly and rationally, yet you were trying to clip his toupee back into place.</p><p>"John, I- I knocked it off," you admitted quietly, your gaze falling to the toupee resting on the nightstand.</p><p>"Knocked wh-," he began, but trailed off when he followed your line of vision. "Oh."</p><p>A tint of red came to his face when he saw that you knew about his hairpiece. You almost grew frantic.</p><p>"I'm sorry," you whispered, nearing tears. Why you became so frantic, you didn't know, but something inside of you kept panicking.</p><p>"Hey, hey," John soothed. He sat up, clasping his hands over yours. "It's alright. I just didn't expect this. You don't need to clip it back into place."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>He nodded. "I'm sure. Now lay down with me. We'll sort it out in the morning."</p><p>You let out a breath and put down the bobby pins on the nightstand. As you laid next to each other, you gathered him up close in your arms, strangely relieved that he didn't become angry.</p><p>John fell back asleep, seemingly unabashed about his exposed hairline. You would insist that it didn't look that bad, and that he could go without the toupee if he so pleased. Eventually your addled mind settled down, no longer in panic mode. You relaxed and fell asleep, nestled in his embrace.</p><p>(The next morning, John would explain to you with amusement in his voice that he had, in fact, purchased more than one toupee. Even if the adhesive wouldn't stick anymore, he had a backup. You tell him that he looks good without the toupee. He smiles and kisses you before walking out the door to your flat, probably to go put on another toupee.)</p>
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